


jontommy

by ymorton



Series: podsa tumblr fic [1]
Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 05:44:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 11,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14466282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ymorton/pseuds/ymorton
Summary: a collection of all the jontommy (tommy/jon favreau) ficlets i've posted on tumblr, ranging from a paragraph to ~1000 words. very loose. read at your own risk.





	1. fake relationship

**Author's Note:**

> i'm in the process of moving shippy content off tumblr and onto ao3. most fills will have the original prompt + the fill, or even LESS context than that. they're messy, informal, and poorly written but i've decided to give up on the idea that ao3 is only for perfectly polished works. hope you enjoy!

 

“So wait, what’s the plan?” Tommy asks, as the cab pulls up to the bar.

“The plan is to go in and find him.” Lovett hands a wrinkled five dollar bill up to Jon in the front seat. Their cab fare’s twenty bucks. Jon rolls his eyes and pays the remainder. “Leila says he always comes here on Friday nights. I’ll find him and dazzle him with my wits. Then, who knows. Long weekends together on Cape Cod? A White House wedding? Who  _knows_. The world’s my oyster. Our oyster.”

“And what are we supposed to do?” Tommy asks, as they pile out onto the sidewalk.

“I don’t know. Emotional support? Act as my bodyguards if it goes south?” Lovett brushes himself off and straightens his shirt. “Do I look okay?”

“Stunning,” Tommy says dryly. He rolls his eyes at Jon and Jon laughs, looking up at the neon rainbow sign above the bar entrance. This is a stupid plan. Lovett has stupid plans. Jon probably should’ve just gone home after they had dinner after work, but he hasn’t had a real night off in weeks and he didn’t feel like sitting alone in his apartment. 

Lovett finishes adjusting his outfit and waves a hand in front of Jon’s face. “Hey. Hey. Don’t be weird about this. It’s just a gay bar.”

“I’m not being weird,” Jon mutters.

“You look like you’re gonna go confess this to a priest later. Calm down.”

Tommy snorts and thumps Jon on the back a couple times. “Don’t be a dick, Lovett.”

Lovett looks at Jon with his eyes narrowed for a minute, until Jon flushes and tugs at his t-shirt. “What?”

“You look like fresh meat,” Lovett says. “That shirt is too tight. Tommy, protect him.”

“I don’t need Tommy to-“

“Will do,” Tommy says, squeezing Jon’s shoulder valiantly.

“I’m serious. DC gays are pushy. You should just pretend you’re together so people’ll leave you alone.” Lovett fixes his hair and exhales. “Okay, let’s go. Act natural. Jon, close your mouth.”

“Honestly, that’s not a bad idea,” Tommy muses, as they get in line. He grins at Jon. “What do you think?”

Jon snorts, leaning against the cool brick wall. “You gonna buy me a drink?”

“Fuck that, you’re buying  _me_  a drink.” 

“Why do I have to be the guy in this relationship? You’re taller.” 

“You make more money than me, dude. You can be my sugar daddy.”  

Lovett turns to give them both a withering look. “Please stop talking.”

The bar’s humid and overheated, bass thumping under their feet. Lovett immediately sees someone he knows and cuts away from them.

“Wait-“ Jon calls after him, but he’s gone, talking to some dark-haired clean-cut guy in skinny jeans who gives Jon and Tommy an unnecessarily scathing look before he pulls Lovett into the crowd. 

Tommy puts a warm arm around Jon’s shoulders.

“Wanna get a drink?” he says into Jon’s ear. Jon nods gratefully and lets Tommy steer him towards the bar. 

He’s leaning against the bar, waiting for Tommy to get the bartender’s attention, when a blonde guy slides neatly between them and grins at Jon.

“Hi,” he says. Tommy’s leaning over the bar and doesn’t notice Jon’s panicked eyes over the guy’s shoulder. “Shit, I need a drink. This week sucked.”

Jon laughs uncomfortably. Honestly, his week kinda sucked too. He got some seriously rough feedback on a first draft and one of his writing meetings ended in a screaming match about the monthly jobs numbers. 

“What are you drinking?” the guy says, leaning on the bar. “They have a really good IPA on tap here.” 

“For real? They have beer here?”

The guy laughs like Jon said something hilarious. “Yeah, man, it’s a bar. First time?”

“Yeah, I’m just here with my friend.” Tommy’s ordering now, back to Jon, bent over so the bartender can hear him.

“How ‘bout that IPA?”  

“I mean, you don’t have to, like- I think my friend’s getting me a drink. It’s cool. Thanks, though.”

“No problem,” the guy says, offering a hand to shake. Jon takes it. “I’m Jake.”

“Jon.”

“So what do you do for work, Jon?”

Jon’s about to tell him when Tommy slides him a beer.

“Jesus, that took forever,” he mutters, coming around Jake so he’s on Jon’s other side. “I should’ve made you order.”

“This your friend?” Jake asks.

“Yeah,” Jon says, just as Tommy says over him- “Boyfriend.”

He puts an arm around Jon’s shoulders.

Jake raises an eyebrow. “Oh.”

“Sorry,” Tommy says, not sounding sorry at all. “Was he flirting with you? He’s such a flirt. I can’t take him anywhere.”

Jon elbows Tommy in the stomach. “Shut up.”

Jake smiles flatly. “You guys are cute.”

“Oh, it’s all him,” Tommy says, squeezing Jon tighter and holding out his free hand. “I’m Tommy.”

“Jake. Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” Tommy hands Jon his beer and presses a little kiss to his neck. Jon chokes and shrugs him off.  _Jesus_. “Drink your beer, I wanna dance.”

“Well,” Jake says, after a second of tense silence. Jon’s bright red and gulping his beer so he doesn’t have to talk. “Nice to meet you guys. Have a good night.”

“You too,” Tommy says, perfectly friendly. He drops his hand from Jon’s shoulder to his waist and squeezes. “See ya.”

As soon as he’s gone Jon takes a step away from Tommy. His neck’s still tingling. “The fuck was that?”

“He was hitting on you,” Tommy says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Lovett told me to protect you.”

“You didn’t have to, like, make out with my neck.“

“Dude, I barely touched you.” Tommy snorts. “Oh, look, there’s Lovett. Lovett! Over here!”

Lovett storms up to them at the bar and takes Jon’s beer out of his hand.

“Did you find your guy?” Tommy asks, as Jon yelps in protest.   


“No. Well, yes.” Lovett takes a long gulp and belches. “Apparently he’s screwing some intern from Berkeley who’s like 19. And if I have to hear Tim make another Monica Lewinsky joke I’m gonna fucking lose my mind.” 

“Sorry, man,” Tommy says, giving Lovett his beer. “Fuck that guy. Let’s just go home." 

He ruffles Lovett’s hair and looks up at Jon. “You coming?”

\---

Tommy keeps bringing it up and laughing and making fun of jon (“dude if i hadn’t stepped in, you would’ve gone home with that guy out of sheer politeness”) and asking when they’re going back to a gay bar until even lovett is like tommy, chill. 

one night they’re out and pretty drunk and jon’s chatting with this girl at the bar, impressing her with white house stories (he’s not a SAINT, okay), when tommy slides in next to him. 

“hey, there you are, i couldn’t find you,” he says, pressing a beer into jon’s hand. he puts his arm around jon’s shoulders and says to the girl, “hey, i’m tommy.” 

jon’s like “what’s up, tommy?” trying to wriggle out from under his arm. tommy holds fast. 

“just kinda tired,” he says. he smells like tequila and he’s leaning a little too much of his weight on jon’s shoulder. jon saw him striking out with a girl across the bar like a half hour ago so that might explain it. “wanna go home?” 

“is this- is this your roommate?” the girl asks, looking hopeful.   


“no,” jon says. “no, he’s-”    


“i’m his boyfriend,” tommy says, squeezing jon’s shoulder. he grins. 

“tommy-”   


“let’s go home, babe,” tommy says, steering him away. “have a nice night-”   


“ _tommy_.”   


but the girl’s gone. tommy’s laughing hysterically in jon’s ear. 

“your face!” he chokes. “i want pizza, do you want pizza?”   


SO they’re walking back to jon’s place. tommy’s now in the silent catatonic stage of drunkenness, walking beside him with his hands in his pockets, and jon’s kinda stewing. he’s been giving tommy a lot of leeway lately, because of how things went down with katie, but that was like- that was bullshit, right? that wasn’t fair. that girl was cute. he chews his lip and says nothing.  

“don’t be pissed at me,” tommy says suddenly, as he trails jon up the steps to his building. “i can tell you’re pissed at me.”   


“dude, i’m not pissed at you.” jon unlocks the door.   


“it was funny, okay?” tommy steps inside behind him. “it was just a joke. you weren’t gonna go home with her, anyway.”   


“i might’ve. she was into me.”   


“thought we were gonna hang out tonight.” tommy’s not looking at him. “we haven’t hung out in a while.”   


“i see you every day, tom.”   


“yeah, at work.” tommy leans against the wall as jon locks the door. finally jon turns to him. tommy looks guilty.   


“i’m sorry,” he says. “i just-” 

he laughs sharply. “i really didn’t feel like going home alone tonight, okay? i’m sorry.” 

his face is red. jon softens.  

“lovett’s there.”   


“lovett has some guy over. they’ve been playing video games since like noon.” 

“really?” jon laughs. tommy does too. “who? not the intern-fucker?” 

“i don’t think so.” tommy runs a hand through his hair, still flushed. “you wanna get pizza?”   


“if you’re buying,” jon says. “boyfriend.”   


tommy snorts. “you gotta admit it was kinda funny.” 

“you’re an asshole.” 

tommy squeezes his shoulders and walks them over to the couch, still laughing. “what do you want on your pizza, babe?” 

(obviously at some point things get Too Real and they make out on the dance floor of a gay club, stiffly at first and then with UNDENIABLE PASSION and TONGUE, which leads to a very awkward cab ride home with lovett sitting between them like they’re schoolchildren who needed to be separated)

 


	2. wild wlwild west

** JONTOMMY IN SPACE or JONTOMMY IN THE WILD WEST and bonus points for GENDERSWAP **

ok i watched an episode of Godless last night to try and get wild west inspired bc i dont know anything about the genre and to be honest i still don’t get it but i DO very much like thinking about butch girl tommy on her faithful horse, broad and freckled, with her hair sheared and a gun on her hip. she learned everything she knows from her father, who was a drunk but knew how to shoot. it’s rumored she’s killed men for lookin' at her wrong. 

and then there’s sweet bored farmwife favs, who spends most of her time in the fields with the horses or writing in her journal when her husband’s away on ‘business” (is that a western-y thing? why would he own a farm and also be a businessman? he’s away on FARM BUSINESS, whatever). sometimes when he’s away she rides into town to pick up a few things and- lets tommy know. sometimes tommy follows her home and undresses her, running her rough hands up under favs’ skirt. she kisses her everywhere, gets her so loud she’s sure the neighbors three miles down the road can hear, then leaves before favs wakes up. 

favs weeps into her hands afterwards. she prays for forgiveness. she lies down obediently for her husband when he wants her. but she never says no when tommy knocks on her door. 


	3. we leave together

no offense but tommy gets stupid wasted the weekend after lovett leaves for LA, ends up flat on his ass on the floor of jon’s kitchen after everyone’s left, pretending not to cry as he slops the last of his beer down his chest trying to chug it. jon bends down next to him, says “get up, dude, why are you on the floor?” and tommy chokes, “everyone leaves. everyone just fucking- leaves.” 

“leaves what?” jon asks, brow furrowing. 

_me_ , tommy thinks miserably. “the white house,” he says instead. “everyone’s leaving.” 

“i’m not leaving.” 

“you will,” tommy says, with drunken certainty. “eventually.” 

“no i won’t.” 

tommy chokes on a breath and wipes his hand over his nose. “yeah, you will.” 

jon’s quiet for a second, crouched there in front of him. he puts his hand on tommy’s wrist. 

“let’s make a deal,” he says, soft. “if we leave, we leave together. deal?”


	4. voyeurism

** nsfw meme, #11 (voyeurism); idk if you want ppl to specify pairings but, for whatever it's worth, my first thought was JONTOMMY, bros bein bros **

“So, Tommy,” Alex says in the morning, mouth full of cornflakes. Jon’s trying to figure out their shitty coffeemaker but it’s being stubborn. Tommy’s the only one who can make it cooperate. “You have fun last night?”

Tommy looks up from his toast. “Hm?”

“You should pass out earplugs before you bring a girl home, dude. I heard way too much.”

Jon chokes on his orange juice and starts hacking into his elbow.

Tommy rolls his eyes, face flushing pink. “Shut up, dude.”

“I almost came and knocked on the door to tell you to keep it down. I almost called the  _cops_. You heard them, didn’t you, Favs? Jesus Christ.”

Jon keeps his head down and mumbles something incoherent. He was really hoping they could wake up this morning and just- put it behind them, no debrief, but apparently not.

“Like, is she  _okay_? Do we need to dispose of a body this morning? Did she make it through the night?”

“Okay, man,” Tommy laughs, putting his hands up. “Chill out. I get it. We’ll keep it down next time, sorry.”

“Please. I’m sleep-deprived enough as it is.”

Tommy snorts and takes the carton of orange juice off the counter, shakes it to see how much is left. “You guys mind if I finish this?”

“Go for it, dude. You need sustenance.” Alex snorts and turns back to his laptop.

Tommy flips him off and tips his head back to gulp it down. Jon’s so tired he zones out on the steady movement of Tommy’s throat and burns his hand on the coffee pot. “ _Shit_.”

“Okay?” Tommy says, breathless, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Did you burn yourself?”

“It’s fine,” Jon mutters, sucking his finger. The coffeemaker starts dribbling out gritty water. “Shit. I hate this thing.”

“Let me do it.” Tommy shoves him aside gently and Jon twists the sink on cold and sticks his finger under the tap.

“So Tommy,” Alex says. “Who is this- uh, this extremely vocal friend of yours?”

Tommy huffs a laugh. “Don’t know if I should tell you, creep.”

“How am I a creep for having ears and living in the same house as you? I wasn’t the one screaming your name last night.”

“She didn’t  _scream his name_ ,” Jon mutters, turning his finger over in the water. The girl  _said_  Tommy’s name, loudly, many times, but she wasn’t literally screaming.

Alex points at him triumphantly. “So you did hear them!”

Jon squints at his injured finger and says nothing.

“Okay, sorry, Jesus,” Tommy says, laughing. The coffeemaker hisses promisingly and he grabs a mug out of the dish rack. “Don’t hate the player, Alex, hate the game.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Alex laughs. 

Jon turns the sink off and shakes water off his hand. He’s inspecting the wound when Tommy says, “Here.”

He puts a cup of coffee in Jon’s good hand and takes the burned one in his. His hands are warm from holding the mug.  

“Is it blistering? If it blisters you should probably-”

“No, dude, it’s fine,” Jon says, yanking his finger out of Tommy’s grasp. A little bit of coffee slops on the ground and Jon immediately steps on it in his socks. 

“Okay,” Tommy says, shrugging. “I got band-aids upstairs, just let me know.”

\---

They’re packed like sardines in a crowded el train on the way to work when Tommy leans in close to his ear and says, “Hey, sorry about last night.”

Jesus, they’re talking about this again? Jon shuts his eyes. “No worries.”   
  
“Alex is such a dick,” Tommy breathes. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“It was fine, I put headphones in,” Jon says. It’s not technically a lie. He did at first, but they kept hurting his ears when he tried to lie down on his side, and he’s never been able to fall asleep to music. Tommy’s girl was making these soft high sounds, quieter, by the time Jon gave up on the headphones and tossed them on the ground. 

Tommy winces and laughs. “Sorry, dude.”

“No worries,” Jon says again, briskly, in a tone he’s pretty sure clearly conveys  _let’s move the fuck on._ “It’s cool.”

Tommy shifts his hand on the pole, next to Jon’s hand. He bites his lip and says, “She’s actually really cool, I want you to meet her.”  

“Cool,” Jon says. He’s sweating profusely in his layers of coats and there’s some random woman pressed all the way up the length of his back, reaching around his waist to grip a handle. Fucking Chicago. He’s either freezing his ass off or boiling to death.

“Maybe Friday? We could invite people over.”

“Sounds good.”

Tommy watches him for a minute, until Jon says shortly- “What?”

“Nothing,” Tommy says, with a shrug. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“I’m fucking exhausted, Tom.” Jon unzips his jacket, palms sweat off his forehead. “And this train is like a thousand degrees.”

“Yeah, I noticed you’re getting pretty acquainted with that lady behind you,” Tommy says into his ear. He huffs a laugh that tickles Jon’s neck. “Maybe you should invite her over on Friday.”

Jon sneaks a peek. The woman’s like sixty and wrapped in a giant purple knitted scarf. She gives Jon a disinterested look through her glasses and Jon ducks his head to laugh into Tommy’s shoulder. “Shut up, dude.”  

“Just saying.” Tommy grins at him. “Age is just a number. You never know.”

“Dumbass,” Jon breathes, forehead against Tommy’s arm. He’s drawing in a deep breath, eyes starting to close, when the train jolts and he jerks his head upright.

“No, it’s okay,” Tommy murmurs. “You wanna sleep a little bit? We still have a couple stops.”

“It’s fine,” Jon says, but when Tommy shuffles a little closer he takes the offer and drops his head again. Tommy’s warm and his neck smells like soap. Jon shuts his eyes.


	5. genderswap

** You can tell me anything, jontommy **

On Jon’s third day out sick from work, Tommy goes by his place on the way home. He’s been texting Jon since day one and has only gotten weird, anemic responses back, like- _Im fine_ and _Just a bug be back soon_. It’s creepy. When he tried to ask Axe about it he got blown off.

He’ll just stop by with some soup from that place Jon likes. If Jon’s deathly ill he won’t go inside, but like- he needs proof of life. Maybe Jon’s been kidnapped and everyone’s covering it up to avoid causing a panic. Maybe he’s been compromised. Maybe he has something embarrassing. Whatever it is, Tommy’s gonna find out. 

There’s no answer when he knocks, even the second and third times, so he leans against the door and texts Jon. _Dude im outside. Brought soup. You in there?_

There’s light under the door so _someone_ must be home. Tommy knocks again, five times, hard. 

His phone buzzes in his hand. 

_Dude i’m sleeping and so contagious i can’t see anyone. Sorry!!!_

It doesn’t even sound like him. Tommy clicks his contact and hits call. Jon doesn’t pick up so he calls again immediately. Three rings in he gets a text. 

_I lost my voice haha. Cant talk._

_Ill be back soon dude. Just go home sorry_

Tommy squints at the phone and hits call again. Finally on the seventh ring Jon picks up, and Tommy grins. He knew Jon would fold. “Hey, man.” 

Jon coughs. “Hey,” he says. His voice sounds weird. Scratchy. 

“Sorry,” Tommy says, laughing in relief. “Dude, I thought you were dead. Or like being held hostage or something. Axe was being so weird.” 

“I’m fine,” Jon says. He’s practically whispering. “Just- like, uh, bronchitis.” 

“Axe said it was swine flu.” 

Jon’s quiet for a second. 

“That too,” he says. “I’ve been throwing up.”

“Open up, I have soup.” 

“I’m so contagious, Tom.” He coughs again. “Don’t wanna get you sick.” 

“It’s fine. I won’t breathe. Just open the fucking door, dude.”

“Tommy, I can’t.” He sniffs in hard. “Just go home.”

Tommy lifts his head, pulse picking up. Can’t? He narrows his eyes. “Just a crack. Just let me see you’re alive.”

“Tommy,” Jon says. He sounds shaky. “Go home.”

Tommy sees a shadow move under the door, like Jon’s standing right there. His breath catches.

“Open the door, Jon.” 

“I _can’t_.” His voice cracks and sounds even weirder than before.

“What is it? Do you have like the clap or something?”

“I can’t tell you,” Jon says, wobbly. “Okay? Just-” 

“You can tell me anything. Come on. Open the door.” Tommy hits his hand against it. “Jon, come on. I’m not leaving til you show me proof of life.”

The phone goes dead in his hand. Tommy stares at it, blinking, until the door clicks and opens just slightly.

“Jon?” he says. His heart’s pounding for some reason. He pushes the door gently with the flat of his hand. 

There’s a girl in the entryway, in a too-big Holy Cross sweatshirt and gym shorts. She looks a little like Jon, like his cousin or something- same full mouth, same eyes. Tommy knows he has a cousin in Maryland, maybe this is her. Maybe she’s nursing Jon back to health.

“Is Jon here?” he asks, slipping his phone into his pocket. “I brought, uh, some soup-” 

“Tommy,” the girl says, quietly. 

“Did he say I was coming? Listen, I’m not trying to be a pain, I just wanted to check and make sure he’s-” 

“ _Tommy_ ,” the girl repeats, holding up her phone, eyes wide on his. Or it’s not her phone, it’s - Jon’s phone. She’s holding Jon’s phone.

Tommy squints at it, something crawling up in his throat. Why the fuck does she have that?  

“Where is he?” he says, unsteadily. “Do you-wait, was that- was that you on the phone?” 

“Tommy, c’mon.” She swallows hard. “It’s me.” 

 


	6. established relationship

** Yes alright but favs shopping for engagement rings and having to slam the laptop shut when tommy comes in the room and asks "whatcha looking at?" "Uh - porn." "... at the dinner table?" **

GOD i love this. god!!!! oh man this is RIDICULOUS but lets GO THERE. 

so tommy believes him, even tho favs is a terrible liar, and later that night he presses up against favs in bed and kisses him and says, “so what were you, uh, watching earlier? when i caught you? anything you want to try?” and favs is like ummmmmmmmmm, nothing special. and tommy’s like “cmon man, it’s okay. you can tell me.” 

so favs is like groping for something to say, trying to articulate the things he thinks about during Shower Time that tommy doesn’t already do to him, and he lands on- “it was like, just. without protection. they weren’t.. using protection.”  

and tommy goes really still, like “barebacking? you want to- but i thought-” 

“we don’t have to,” favs says, all red.   


“i didn’t know you wanted that.”   


favs does, a little bit. last week tommy went to the doctor and left his test results folded on the kitchen table on top of a stack of mail and favs picked them up. he’d wondered if tommy somehow knew that favs thought about it sometimes, or if tommy was just- good about this, careful like always. 

tommy’s looking down at him softly. he touches favs’ hot face. 

“we can,” he says. “if you want. i’m clean.”   


“i know,” favs says.   


“and you’re- i mean. you are too, i’m assuming.”   


favs has had sex with exactly two people in the last 10 years. he nods.

“do you want to?” tommy asks, propping himself up on his elbow. he slides his other hand down favs’ stomach, into his boxers, grins and raises his eyebrows. “oh. you do.”    


favs shuts his eyes when tommy starts stroking him. he wants tommy to know he doesn’t have to do this but he doesn’t know how to say that. 

“you okay?” tommy asks, hushed.   


favs nods. tommy’s hand feels so good. tommy lets go of him and reaches over for the lube and then his hand feels even better. favs has to bite his lip. 

“god, i love you,” tommy says, still so quiet, over the wet sounds of his hand working slick and tight over favs’ dick. favs opens his eyes and laughs, and tommy laughs too, sheepish. “most romantic handjob ever.”   


“fucking sap,” favs says, grinning, reaching out for the waistband of tommy’s boxers. “c'mon.”   


(after, when they’re cleaned up and falling asleep on fresh sheets, favs really wants to say it. he doesn’t have a ring and he’s not on one knee but he wants to. it feels urgent. tommy gives him - everything he’s ever wanted, and favs gives him everything he has back, and that’s what this is about, right? that’s what- marriage is.

“tommy?” he says, breathless, pushing himself up on one arm. “tommy.”  


tommy mumbles in his sleep and rolls over.

favs lets out a shaky breath and puts his head back down. later. he has time.) 


	7. first time

** i am so thirsty for jontommy content. how do you think their first erotíque encounter happened? i gotta feeling like they only realised what they were doing halfway through, kinda drunk and very euphoric. or! or maybe it was weirdly gentle and intimate and lazy! idk man the options are endless and im dying for all of them. oh god i cant even think about the first time jon gets f*cked im blushing **

MMMM, BOTH???? LIKE DRUNKEN HANDJOBS IN A CLOSET AT CAMPAIGN HQ AFTER A LONG NIGHT, NOT KISSING, GIGGLING INTO EACH OTHER’S NECKS UNTIL FAVS HAS TO DROP HIS HOT FACE TO TOMMY’S SHOULDER AND TRY NOT TO COME FIRST AT TOMMY’S ROUGH, PERFECT GRIP (HE DOES ANYWAY)

and then they walk back to their house at like 2AM in the crisp chicago fall and they can’t stop laughing. can’t look at each other. favs feels giddy and weird. tommy unlocks the door and favs follows him upstairs, and instead of turning off at his own room he says “uh-” and tommy doesn’t turn back to look at him when he says “i’m not gonna sleep for a while, you wanna-” and favs nods and trails him into the room. they peel off their gross boxers and jeans and tommy tosses favs a pair of underwear and they lay there in bed side by side, not touching, just talking. favs talks til he’s hoarse, talks about iowa and the road ahead. he talks til he falls asleep mid-sentence and wakes up with his face pressed sweatily to tommy’s warm solid arm, the duvet pulled up over them both. he checks to make sure tommy’s asleep, breathing slow and even, before he moves closer.

in the morning it’s hot under the heavy covers and tommy’s throat is all scratchy when he says “morning”, sounding kind of sheepish. favs never wants to move. he’s so fucking tired, bone-deep tired, and it smells so good under the blanket, like cologne, like tommy’s skin, a little like dirty laundry but it’s ok. tommy props himself up on his elbow, looks down at him, and they’re both still half-asleep when they start kissing, lazy and open-mouthed. favs groans when tommy rolls on top of him.


	8. wasn't meant to hear

** jontommy, #20, things you said that i wasnt meant to hear  **

“Yeah, no, I know,” Jon says into the phone, laughing. Tommy pauses outside his office door so he won’t interrupt. “Yeah, but get your ass in here early tomorrow then. We need to workshop this thing.”

He laughs again. “Okay, Lovett. Okay. Send it to me when you have a working draft.”

Tommy leans against the wall of the hallway, yawning, but he stands up straight when he hears Favs say- “No, Tommy’s still here. Yeah, I know. It’s not as bad as last week, though.”

Tommy holds his breath to hear.

“You’re his fucking roommate, you make him sleep. Make him some warm milk or something.”

Favs snorts as Tommy shuts his eyes, stomach starting to ache. He didn’t think Lovett had noticed. He tries to be quiet, even when he wakes up at 2 AM and the low ceiling of his room starts to make him feel sick and he has to tiptoe to the couch to lay down. Lovett’s a heavy sleeper. Tommy thought he’d been getting away with it. 

“Yeah, I’ll tell him,” Favs says, yawning audibly. “I’ll head out soon, make sure he does too. Yeah, yeah, relax. See you tomorrow, dude.”

Tommy hears the phone click and he waits a full minute before he knocks gently on the half-open door. Favs looks up, face creasing in a smile. His eyes are red and tired because he works almost as long hours as Tommy does. Tommy doesn’t know why  _he’s_  the one everyone’s apparently worried about.

“Hey man,” Favs says, leaning back in his chair, yawning into his elbow. He’s undone a couple buttons on his shirt. “You heading out? I’ll walk with you.”

There’s a stubborn little part of Tommy that wants to stay out of spite. It’s only 10:30 and he has a stack of reading he needs to get through this week.

He’s so fucking tired, though. He nods, leans against the doorway. “Yeah, sounds good.”

“Cool,” Favs says happily. “I’ll shut down, give me one sec.”

Tommy watches him turn his computer off, get his desk in order, shoving papers into a manila folder. He shuts his eyes for a second and drifts off to the familiar sound of Favs murmuring to himself, comes to when Favs jostles his shoulder gently.

“Ready?”

Tommy nods, and Favs opens the door for him, puts a heavy arm around Tommy’s shoulders as they walk. He smells familiar, like nervous White House sweat and faded aftershave. He smells like they all do at the end of a long day.   


“Sleeping on your feet, dude,” Favs says, as he leads Tommy out. They both wave to the Secret Service guard at the end of the hall, and he nods at them, stone-faced. “That’s like some campaign shit.”

“Tired,” Tommy admits.

“I bet,” Favs says. He squeezes Tommy’s shoulder and adds, gingerly- “You okay, Tom?”

Tommy slips out of his grasp, straightens the messenger bag over his chest, fiddling with the strap for something to do. For a second he feels like he’s going to cry, but he swallows it right back down. It’s just - late. He’s fucking tired. 

“Yeah, dude, I’m fine.”

Favs nods too many times, ducking his head. He lifts it and gives Tommy a wan smile. “Okay, man. Just checking.”

 


	9. california dreams

** ive been feeling so many things about vietreau lately. like, especially campaign vietreau. and WH vietreau. lovett left us for LA vietreau? ALL vietreau actually, who am i kidding. **

LOVETT LEFT US FOR LA” JONTOMMY IS CRUUUUCIAL, AS IS “PLANNING THEIR FUTURE CONSULTING FIRM AND TV SCRIPT TOGETHER” JONTOMMY!!!! like absolutely NOT enough has been done with that time period. 

both of them burnt out and weary and dreaming about sunshine and fame during the long dreary dc winter! favs sending tommy little script ideas, blushing and pleased when tommy tells him they're good! favs in his office daydreaming with his chin in hand, looking up and grinning when tommy brings him dunkins and sits down to whisper about ideas for a couple minutes before his first press briefing of the day!! both of them spending their day off at favs’ big sterile bachelor pad sprawled on the couch with their laptops eating chinese food and brainstorming!!!! falling asleep mid afternoon bc theyre fucking exhausted! favs wakes up and pulls a blanket over tommy and keeps workin until its dark out and tommy wakes up yawning and cuddles back into the couch and is like "Tell me what youve been writing" and favs tells him like a bedtime story and tommy sinks back into sleep again!!! they sustain themselves on a dream for months, text “california lol” to each other on long days, make meaningful eye contact during horrible meetings, promise each other they’ll sleep better when they’re out west …. oh my god i could go ON.

(and then they drunk fuck and tommy decides to move to san fran instead of LA but THATS A WHOLE OTHER STORY)


	10. dreamt about you

** I dreamt about you last night where Jon F is the dreamer but you pick the dreamee **

Tommy wakes up on a lumpy Ikea couch with a splitting headache from the keg the Iowa crew rolled into headquarters the night before, and a text from Jon that says- _I dreamt about you last night_

Tommy squints at his phone, confused. The next text says, _I miss you_ …

He sits up, groaning when his stomach roils. Shit. Jon was probably drunk. But even drunk it’s- it’s weird. It’s weird, right? It’s- something. Tommy reaches for a Solo cup on the coffee table and sniffs it. Definitely not water. He sets it back down and settles back into the couch, crossing his legs. 

_I dreamt about you last night. I miss you_ … 

Tommy bites his lip, phone cradled in his hands. He’s been in Iowa for a month and he misses the Pad, the food, the busy city, not driving like four hours a day. It’s been rough. Maybe it’s been rough back at HQ too. Maybe Jon’s been feeling the same as Tommy, restless and exhausted and- lonely. 

_I’ve been thinking about you too_ , he types, and then groans and deletes it. Too fucking gay. Even if it’s true. 

_Miss you too dude_ , he taps out. But it looks fucking stupid. He deletes it. 

Finally he settles on- _Haha. What was the dream?_

He hits send and covers his eyes with one hand, taking a deep breath. His phone buzzes against the pillow and he grabs for it. 

_What???_

_Wait hahaha I think Ronnie stole my phone last night_

_Fucking idiot_

_Sorry_

 


	11. early states

** “Favreau and Vietor founded a strategic communications firm to pay the bills while they nursed their own TV ambitions, but their projects - a campaign drama-comedy called “Early States” and a public-affairs show that they pitched, with Lovett, as “a millennial ‘Meet the Press’ “ - were rejected by the networks and streaming services. “Lots of people in suits told us that politics was a crowded space as they greenlit ‘CSI [expletive] West Hollywood’ or whatever,” Vietor recalls. **

-

“EARLY STATES”, a rollicking, laugh-a-minute, unexpectedly earnest tale of the early days of a long-shot presidential campaign and the passionate, high-stakes romance that blossoms between the chief speechwriter and her best friend, a boisterous young spokesman with a checkered past. think parks and rec meets the west wing meets this is us. COMING SOON!!!!! 

-

“checkered past?” lovett says, in disbelief. “ _checkered past_? tommy vietor, a checkered past? what, did you wear white after labor day once?” 

“it’s called drama, lovett, maybe you could’ve used some in your show-” tommy stops at the look on lovett’s face. “- which is a CULT CLASSIC, and will be beloved by generations-” 

“nice save,” jon mutters. he makes an edit on the script with a pencil. “tommy, i think she should kiss him at the end of this scene, like right as she leaves the bar. she obviously wants to.” 

“obviously,” lovett says, voice bubbly, trying not to laugh. tommy flips him off. 


	12. ghosties

i'm high and on a ghost tour and i cant.. believe…. how much i need a fic where tommys a NOBLE TIRED GHOST HUNTER who comes from GENERATIONS OF HUNTERS and favs is a GENTLE GIANT CLAIRVOYANT who TALKS TO DEAD PEOPLE and they drive around hunting evil spirits and lovetts a yappy fallen angel who shows up in the backseat of tommy’s battered old car sometimes and makes them stop for burgers even though he's not human and doesn't experience hunger. 

tommy is exhausted and grim and dreams of a house in the woods and a couple big dogs!!! knows it’ll never happen because this is his Duty! other people get to be normal but not him!!! knows he’ll die fighting like his dad did! 

favs got kicked out because his family thought he had the ~devil in him!! he was exorcised a few times as a youth but he only talks about it when it’s dark and they’re on the road and he doesn’t have to make eye contact! he misses being normal!! still thinks there’s a god somewhere but isn’t sure! would follow tommy to the ends of the earth!! 

and LOVETT got KICKED OUT OF HEAVEN for being a DICK and now travels around causing mayhem and occasionally helping them hunt. he shows up in in tommy’s car one night and is like "so THIS is the famous tommy vietor, ive heard a lot about you upstairs" and tommys like "who the hell are you?" and lovett is like, “HELL? how dare you. my name is [unintelligible angel language]” and tommy squints at the name badge on the chest of the body he’s currently inhabiting and goes, i’m calling you lovett. they buy him burgers and he pretends not to care about them but one night tommy’s trying desperately to fall asleep after a rough hunt that ended in a lot of blood and lovett shows up next to him and touches his forehead with a cool hand and says softly “get some rest, tommy” and tommy passes out and sleeps better than he has in a while. when he wakes up lovett’s gone. 

probably lovett loses his grace and becomes human at some point and they all move into a farmhouse with some dogs and a couple chickens and it’s nice and quiet. 


	13. a/b/o

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> these are all the various pieces of the alpha/beta/omega jontommy verse i've been talking about on tumblr for a while. they are all deleted off tumblr now. sorry SO messy, hope you get the gist.

basically, my ideal podsa a/b/o fic would be mostly JONTOMMY and take place on the 08 campaign trail with ashamed but resigned omega FAVS who takes meds to repress his hormones and Doesn’t Like To Talk About It and soft semi-woke alpha bro TOMMY who doesn’t believe in ~Society’s Rules but also doesn’t sleep with omegas because he hates the idea of blurred consent. 

also present at some point (in the white house?) is perpetually annoyed beta LOVETT who thinks all this determinism is some real old-fashioned bullshit and who would be just as happy choking on tommy’s dick as he would making favs choke on his own (he says this aloud many times, tommy snorts, favs goes red) 

(but you know…. sadder and more full of body issues than that description makes it sound. full of various cliches like people assuming favs is easy and saying he’s big for an omega, some Catholic Shame (is he a virgin? has he had sex with just one college girlfriend who broke his heart? IDK), lots of close calls with sexual tension and tommy almost hooking up with him, missing medication doses so he goes into heat and tommy can SMELL IT, looking in the mirror and hating his stupid body he can’t change, MAYBE EVENTUAL SEX AT THE END BUT SO NOT THE POINT, ETC) 

here is a quickly-written and kinda heavy-handed sample so you can get a sense of what i mean:

Favs shrugs one earphone off. HQ is mostly empty, except a couple local staff dozing on the floor surrounded by empty pizza boxes, and Tommy in the next cubicle over, the light of his laptop shining through the frosted plastic.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” Tommy says, in his bossy talking-to-reporters voice. Favs has no clue who he’d be on the phone with at - 10:30PM, but Tommy’s always talking to someone.

He yawns, puts his chin in his hand and clicks the trackpad on his laptop before the screen goes dark. This draft is driving him fucking nuts, but he doesn’t wanna bug Ben on his night off. It’s not his fault Favs can’t think of a creative way to say that their opponent doesn’t give a fuck about corn farmers.

“No, what I don’t see is what makes that _relevant enough to write about_ ,” Tommy says, enunciating. He pauses for a minute and then scoffs. “Jesus, Sam, what year is it. Did I time-travel to 1960? Last time I checked, Barack Obama was our candidate for president, not - his status isn’t relevant to Senator Obama’s leadership abilities. You want to drag up every omega who volunteers for our campaign too? It’s 2008, man, omegas do stuff now. Outside the house even. Get used to it.”

Favs straightens up in his chair, fully awake all of a sudden. He holds his breath.

“Yes, I- no. No, I don’t think that’s- it’s _tired_ , Sam. Find a real story. Why don’t you come to Iowa and see how we’re connecting with Iowans instead of writing some hit job on the campaign? Our clear economic message is resonating with everyone, black, white, alpha, beta-”

Favs should put his headphones back on, he should, but instead he listens as quietly as he can, his laptop screen fading to black again. How often has Tommy been doing this when he’s not around? How many times has he had to defend the campaign because of fucking _Favs_?

“Yeah. Well, I can’t control what you write, man. But I’ll take it as a compliment, that the only thing you can come up with is talking shit about our hardworking staff who are just trying to make this country better.” He laughs, mean-sounding. “Yeah. Uh-huh. No, no quote from the Senator. Yeah. Have a great night.”

He slams the phone down, mutters - “Fucking dick.”

Favs slides his headphones back on just in time for Tommy to pop his head up over the cubicle wall. He waves a hand at Favs to get his attention and Favs nudges the headphones off again like he hadn’t been eavesdropping like a creep.

“Yeah?”

“I’m heading home,” Tommy says, cheeks red like he’s embarrassed. He shouldn’t be. It’s Favs’ fault that Tommy has to answer questions about this shit. “You gonna come back to the house tonight?”

Favs shrugs, staring at the blinking cursor on his screen. “I don’t know, man. I’m so fucking blocked.”

“It’s for Thursday? For that corn farmers thing?”

Favs nods, tired, rubbing his hand over his scalp. He can’t look at Tommy or Tommy’ll know he was listening. Tommy can read him like a book.

Tommy sighs, slapping the cubicle with one hand. “Good luck, dude.”

“Thanks,” Favs mutters.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

“See ya.”

-

picture the 08 campaign trail, favs hiding behind his laptop as he often did, tommy arguing with another staffer as  _he_  often did and she’s just eviscerating him for his #problematic rule of only fucking betas and being like, "so you don’t think omegas can consent? you don’t think they’re able to make their own decisions? THAT’S paternalistic, wow, tommy." and tommy’s all red-faced like "that’s not what i’m saying i’m just, i don’t want there to be like a power dynamic that’s-" and she’s like "either you believe your status is a determinant of your personality or you don’t, tommy, like walk the walk dude-"

and favs is just watching and pretending to type, something tight in his chest bc where he grew up no one talked about stuff like this. his catholic education was just like, omegas submit and alphas dominate and if you’re unfortunate enough to not be born normal (beta) you have to find your mate and get married and that’s it. he’s barely even heard of half the stuff they’re talking about, tabula rasa and biological determinism and alpha-specific pheromones. tommy catches eyes with him and looks away fast and favs looks down at his laptop and puts his headphones on and starts typing furiously. if they ask him anything, they’ll figure out he doesn’t know shit about himself.

-

** godd imagine favs saying something really grossly ill-informed or old-fashioned about a/o and like, tommy doesnt wanna school him bc he doesnt wanna [alpha equivalent of mansplain] but jeez favs. gentle mocking by beta monster lvett to hide how queasy and sad he feels sometimes about favs. and favs is so so so embarrassed and quote "terrified to ever speak again" aaaaaaaaahhh **

oh my god YES i was thinking that also. i love it. like favs has so much internalized omegaphobia (lol) and has been fed a PACK OF LIES and doesn’t like to think about it. he just takes his meds and puts his head down and works hard and prays he can keep being the exception to all the rules he learned as a kid. 

like maybe when the ~gossip that obama’s chief speechwriter is an omega comes out during the campaign, favs comes out of a humiliating strategy meeting with obama where he apologized a thousand times and obama was very kind about it and tommy’s like, "dude you need a drink". and once they’re drunk, favs says, "maybe i shouldn’t be doing this. i’m a liability, like, what am i gonna do when the speeches aren’t all hope and change and he actually has to talk about real shit? he’s trying to lead the fucking country, like-" and tommy’s like, "why wouldn’t you be able to talk about real shit? you think rhodes is a foreign policy expert?" and favs looks at him and says, "c'mon, man." and tommy’s like "no really, why?" 

favs stares into his drink, jaw clenched as he says- "you know what i am, tommy."

-

things get hard when his parents come to chicago for a long weekend and visit the bro-house and someone forgot to put away the bong and then tommy stumbles out of his room half-naked and panting with a scratchmark down his chest and a girl calling his name from inside and is like "oh - oh hey mr. and mrs. favreau, it’s um, it’s really good to see you guys again!!"

and at dinner that night his mom touches his arm and is like, "sweetheart, i don’t know if this is the best environment for you, i know you care about this so much but-" and his dad’s like, "don’t worry, lillian. he’ll settle down soon enough, let him have some fun." favs doesn’t know what to say so he just mumbles something about being tired. back at the house everyone’s smoking up in the living room and favs waves and goes upstairs to his room and pulls out his laptop to start next week’s speech. 

tommy taps on the door a little bit later and comes in after favs says he can. he’s tipsy and smells like weed and he sits down at the edge of favs’ bed. 

“sorry about earlier,” he says sheepishly.    


“it’s fine, dude,” favs says, and it is. it’d be a different story if he were the one sleeping around, but for tommy it’s fine. tommy’s an alpha, they’re supposed to do that.   


“how was dinner?”   


favs shrugs. “fine.” 

tommy waits him out. 

“my mom wants me to come home,” favs says eventually. “doesn’t think it’s the best environment.”   


“shit, was it the bong? i told jen to put it away last night, she-”   


“it’s not that,” favs says. he doesn’t know how to say what it is, though. it’s like- his mom has a running list of alphas from his neighborhood who’d be  _delighted to get to know you, jon, they’d love it_. he doesn’t know how to explain that his parents think he should be married by now. tommy doesn’t get it. tommy’s parents are divorced and he has a weird old-money family, a crazy omega great-aunt and his dad and stepmom are both alphas, which favs didn’t even think was possible. tommy talks about his status like it’s any other part of him, like it means as little as the color of his eyes or how tall he is. sometimes favs likes it and sometimes he just wants tommy to shut the fuck up.   


“she always wants me home,” he says as an answer. he forces a laugh. “she’s paranoid.” 

“it’s not like you could get knocked up when you’re on all those fucking meds,” tommy says, almost to himself. he looks up, pink in the cheeks. “sorry. i just- what is she so worried about?”   


favs stares at his laptop, face burning.  _knocked up_ , christ. he always tries to forget that part. “everything, i guess. i don’t know.” 

(and tommy SQUEEZES HIS ANKLE GENTLY and leaves him alone and tells him he can come down whenever for a drink and favs waits til the door is closed before he shuts his laptop and slides down into bed.) 

-

“So I, uh, I went off my meds.” Favs takes a sip of his beer.

“You went off them for your girlfriend? Dude, that’s romantic.” Alyssa laughs and reaches for the wine bottle.

Jen’s watching him, face grim and knowing. “How long did your heat last?”

Favs catches eyes with her for a second. “Uh, two weeks.”

She shakes her head. “Shit.”

“Two _weeks_? Dude.” Ronnie laughs. “You must’ve been in fucking heaven.”

“I was in the hospital for most of it, so. Not exactly.” The room goes quiet and Favs looks down at his beer, face suddenly hot.

Alyssa’s wincing. “The _hospital_?”

“Did she break your dick?” Ronnie asks in a whisper. “Can that happen? Alphas scare me.”

Tommy gives him the finger, laughing. “I’ll break your dick and you’ll fucking like it, Ronnie.”

“Going off hormone meds cold turkey fucks you up,” Jen says knowledgeably. “I took a class on A/O genetics back when I still thought I was gonna go to med school. It’s like super dangerous.”

“What happened?” Alyssa asks, squinting at him through her glasses.

“Not, um, not totally sure. I don’t remember that much. I was out for a while.” Favs picks at the label on his beer bottle. He can feel Tommy next to him, quiet and listening.

“High fever, right?” Jen says. “Seizures and stuff?” 

“Uh. Yeah. My mom wanted me to drop out and come home, go back to school when I got, like, my shit under control,” Favs says, words coming out even though he should really stop talking about this. “But I stayed.”

“Jesus,” Ronnie breathes. “What about your girlfriend?”

Favs shrugs. “We broke up. She was pretty freaked out.”

Everyone’s quiet for a moment. There’s more Favs could say - how he collapsed getting out of bed, how Danielle told everyone, how people whispered about him for the rest of the semester. The time he got cornered in the locker room after a race by a senior who put a hand on his throat and whispered something in his ear about giving him what he needed. Even Josh was weird around him for a while.

But he keeps quiet, tips his beer bottle back and drains it.

“Shit,” Alyssa finally says. “What a bitch.”

“Yeah, fuck her,” Ronnie chimes in.

Favs huffs a relieved laugh, and Tommy nudges their shoulders together.

“You want another beer?”

-

oh my god, the jonjon. imagine like early white house days, favs hires two additional speechwriters during the transition (lovett and Anonymous Jerk) and Anonymous Jerk (let’s call him AJ) is such an asshole about having an omega boss, doesn’t listen to a word favs says, and favs is stressed and hates conflict and lovett finds him like in the office at midnight hunched over his laptop and he’s like “uh jon?” (DOESN’T CALL HIM FAVS YET!!!! STILL JUST HIS BOSS!) and favs is like “jesus  _what_?” because he’s TENSE and he’s pretty sure he’s an awful boss and everyone’s gonna quit and the president will finally realize he shouldn’t have let a DUMB OMEGA run his speechwriting team and lovett’s like, “not to be a dick and throw AJ under the bus, but he’s a terrible person and you need to fire him.” and favs is like …excuse me? and lovett’s like “i’m now realizing you might fire  _me_  for saying this, i know it’s unprofessional but like,  _jon_ , he’s such an asshole-”  

-

** Q about your ABO verse, which is currently consuming my brain (thank you!) Do the meds get rid of Favs' sex drive altogether or just the whole biological imperative bit? Just curious about whether repressed shower jerking is a thing in this world. **

it represses a lot so i’d say he leans like gray ace, and sees it more as a stressful thing than something that feels like it could be pleasurable for him. so a lot less shower time, though he has a few stray Thoughts when he's close to his heat, mostly about someone (tommy) kissing him and doing stuff that would feel good. 

-

** I just read what you wrote about omega!Jon not having as much of a sex drive on his suppressants and most of his ~shower thoughts~ lean more towards just feeling nice, and it made me think like, what if his desire leans more towards someone just— treating him gently and sweetly for once, because he tries so hard most of the time to show that he doesn't need to be handled with kid gloves just because he's an omega, he wants to be taken seriously, but when he's alone at night... **

yes!! and that makes him feel ashamed because he shouldn't need that, but, god! he thinks about it in bed!!!!! he feels kinda queasy and off during his heat, he pretends he doesn't even notice, but he does. and he wants stuff, but not the stuff he's supposed to want. 

-

** a/b/o, things you said while you were driving  **

“Took you long enough,” Tommy says, lifting his sunglasses as Favs swings the car door open, tosses the plastic bag onto his lap. “Did you get my Twizzlers?”

“Yeah, dude, but those are gross,” Favs laughs, reaching over to pull out his bag of sunflower seeds. He rips it open as Tommy backs out of the parking spot. “That place was sketchy as fuck.”

“Looked like trucker central.” Tommy turns onto the highway, Twizzler dangling from his mouth. He hits the accelerator hard and reaches with one hand for the sweaty Gatorade Favs is holding out to him. “We’re in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

They really are. No one in the gas station said anything to him outright but the guy at the counter gave him a long, slow look as he ran Favs’ credit card. He knew, probably. He looked like he knew, but Favs isn’t sure how. He could ask Tommy but Tommy might get weird and lecture him about it.

He spits a shell out the open window, laughs when it almost flies into the backseat. Tommy looks over at him and makes a face, still grinning.

“Don’t spit in my car. Jesus, what would your mother say?”

“I’m not, relax. It went out the window.” Favs tips his head back against the seat, sighing. He pops another couple seeds in his mouth. His mom hated when he spat. He used to steal his dad’s sunflower seeds when they watched Andy play baseball and she’d reach over and pinch his thigh hard if he spat on the ground.

He doesn’t say that to Tommy, though. He knows by now that that’s one of those things Tommy would get all worked up about, and they still have four hours til they get to Boston. Favs really doesn’t want to spend the rest of the drive talking about his apparently backwards childhood.

-

Okay, what if they had to pretend to be TOGETHER for like a STUFFY FAVREAU FAMILY EVENT because favs’ great great aunt would just die if she knew favs was off cavorting in the white house without being collared (oh yeah , i guess in this verse omegas traditionally wear collars when they're mated with an alpha (it’d be gauche and #problematic in the circles tommy and favs run in in DC but for favs’ family it’s like a given)): 

“Good night, mom.”

“Night, sweetheart,” she says, kissing his cheek. “You two sleep well.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Favreau,” Tommy says politely, steering Favs up the stairs with a hand on his back. “Good night.”

Favs shakes him off when they round the corner, waits til the bedroom door’s closed behind him before he reaches for the collar.

“Fuck,” he mutters, when his sweaty fingers scrabble against the buckle and he can’t get it off. His chest feels tight. “Fuck, c’mon.  _C’mon_.”

“Here,” Tommy says quietly, pushing Favs’ fingers off, holding him steady with a hand on his shoulder, thumb on his collarbone. “Let me.”

Favs goes still under his hands, breath shuddering in and out, and Tommy gently unhooks the collar and pulls it off.

He sets it on the dresser, and Favs rubs his neck with one hand.

“Shit,” he mumbles, looking at himself in the mirror. His eyes are red.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine, I just. I- I fucking hate wearing that. Fuck.” Favs massages his neck again, swallowing shakily.

“I know,” Tommy says, voice inscrutable. He drops his cufflinks on the dresser next to the collar. “We don’t have to, like- I mean, we could leave tonight. They probably wouldn’t miss us at brunch.“

Favs sniffs in hard.

“It’s just tomorrow morning,” he says, looking away from himself in the mirror. He kicks off his shoes. “My mom would get pissed if I left early. It’s fine. I’m fine with it. I mean, if you’re still-“

“Whatever you need, man,” Tommy says stiffly. He starts unbuttoning his shirt. “I said I’d help.”

Favs looks at him in the mirror, his downturned face, pink from wine. He’s slowly working on his buttons, hands clumsy. Favs knows this is shitty for him too. Tommy hates all this bullshit- playing alpha, acting like Favs is his property, like all this old-fashioned bullshit means something. He probably hates Favs’ whole family. He’s probably regretting agreeing to this.

“Sorry,” Favs offers. “About all this. I know it sucks.”

Tommy shrugs, not looking up. He pulls off his shirt, untucks his undershirt, and Favs looks away. “It’s fine, dude. I get it.”

He doesn’t, because his family isn’t like this. No one wears a collar in Tommy’s family.

-

“It’s not about being controlled,” Favs says, staring at the ceiling. “It’s about being taken care of. Right? That’s what they- they say. It’s a - a mutual relationship.” 

“You can take care of yourself, though,” Tommy says, sounding careful. “You don’t need some alpha telling you what to do. No one told you to take your job. No one writes those speeches for you, like- no- no alpha tells you what to do at work.”

“The President,” Favs counters.

“That’s different. I take orders from him too. The point is you did it on your own.” 

Favs looks over at him. Tommy looks away when Favs catches his eye.

“All that- that shit they taught you in Catholic school,” he says, voice thick like he has something in his throat. “Is- made-up. Or it’s not totally made-up but it’s made up that that’s the only way to be. Or the best way. Not to get on my high horse or whatever, but like. It pisses me off the way they act like it’s all some foregone conclusion. Everyone fucking losing their minds because you showed up with a collar on, like finally your life has meaning. It’s insane. You write speeches for the fucking  _President_. That’s not enough for them?”

“Okay, Tommy,” Favs says, forcing out a laugh. “It’s fine.”

Tommy glares up at the ceiling. “And, like, when you look at all the stories of domestic abuse in alpha-omega marriages, it’s totally about being controlled,” he says. “The power dynamic is fucked. Maybe it’s mutual for some people, but it’s sure as hell not for everyone. And historically, if you look at rates of marital rape, it’s-”

“Yeah, but how do they count that? Those studies are always skewed.” Favs yawns, pulling the duvet up closer to his neck. “Discipline isn’t always the same as abuse. I got disciplined at school. More than alphas did. Wasn’t the same thing.”

“How was it not the same thing?”

Favs shuts his eyes, embarrassed. “Because like, I needed to learn boundaries.”

“Alphas don’t need to learn boundaries?”

“Not the same way. Not the same boundaries. It’s different, Tommy, come on. You can’t pretend there aren’t real differences.”

“Biological, maybe. Sure. Some parts of your body are different than mine. But that doesn’t mean you have to be disciplined and I don’t. Physical discipline especially. That’s fucking nuts.”

Favs has that sinking feeling that he’s going to lose the argument. He always loses against Tommy when it comes to this shit. Tommy has facts and data and talking points. All Favs has is his childhood, which was apparently ass backwards and traumatizing.

One time in tenth grade he had to kneel at his English teacher’s feet for an hour after school while she graded papers and ignored him. When she was done she laid his wrist across the desk and hit it hard, five times, with a ruler. That’s one of those things Tommy would probably freak out about, but Favs didn’t mess around again all year, and he got the best grade in the class, and now he writes speeches for the President, so. Was she wrong?

“Fine,” he says, faking a yawn. Halfway through it turns real and he digs his head back into the pillow. “Tell me how wrong I am tomorrow, okay? I need to sleep.”

“It’s not you,” Tommy says, rising up on one elbow. “You know that. Like you know you’re so much more than-“

He stops, voice cracking. Favs shuts his eyes quickly.

“You’re not wrong,” Tommy says after a second. “It’s just- it’s mostly bullshit.”

Favs keeps his eyes closed.

“If it were all true wouldn’t you like being collared?” Tommy says, quietly. “Wouldn’t it feel natural?”

“I never said it was all true,” Favs says, not opening his eyes. His face feels hot.

“So then why don’t you-“

“Tommy. Christ.” Favs rubs his hands over his eyes. “I’m tired. Can we do this later?”

Tommy sinks back down into bed, mattress shifting under his weight. “Sorry.”

“Good night,” Favs mumbles, turning onto his side, away from him.

Tommy sighs softly. “Night, Jon.”

-

** IM FEELING VERY WORRIED ABOUT ABO VERSE JON. how does he come to accept his need to be taken care of??? does someone like pull him aside one day and is like jon ur allowed to ask for help. everyone's allowed to need help. IM STRESST **

WELL, i don’t think he really figures his shit out until he leaves the white house and moves to LA and weans off his meds and has like actual time to care about his health, to do not much of anything except hike and tweet and go to doctor appointments and sit around watching tv and smoking weed with lovett. and yeah SURE his parents are worried about him, sure it’s hard to adjust to not being on pills, sure he still feels like shit when his heat comes around and LA feels too fucking hot and he misses tommy. BUT HE’S BETTER. 

also, favs having new Urges and beta!lovett helping him out, fucking him through his heat in a low-stakes no-strings friends with benefits kinda way, doing stuff favs didn’t even know they could do, making fun of his scent, making him come a bunch of times, being just mean and sharp enough when favs starts to get all involuntarily soft and clingy, taking care of him in a very lovett way is…. delicious. 

-

** omega jons LA sexual awakening!!!! beta lovett has been! around! the! block!!!!!! tommy comes to la and is like very overwhelmed bc jon is so different but also he smells like other guys and tommys alpha-ness HATES IT and he has to do a lot of guided meditations to not like tackle jon to the ground and scent mark him ok byeeeee **

LOL a headspace meditation specifically for sexually frustrated alphas, i LOVE IT. tommy coaxing himself to stop being such a jealous asshole, lying in jon’s guest bed staring at the ceiling trying to breathe deep, but then favs comes in after a run and he’s sweaty and tan and shirtless like “im gonna shower then we’ll grab dinner okay?” and tommy just wants to follow him into the bathroom, wants to pull his shorts down, make him – BUT he just exhales shakily and is like “yeah man cool” and favs grins at him and turns away 

-

** i keep getting these random thoughts about your ao verse all day long like.. imagine them inviting an omega activist type to the pod and favs gets all choked up. man i could think up little scenarios forever  **

please, i love that! favs who has come to terms with himself a lil more in california and can be like, objective and explain stuff the way he does on the pod now, but then he gets a lil lump in his throat. 

-

** i live for updates on ur a/b/o-verse and i would never want to pressure u for content but if ever u have more thoughts (literally any thoughts) about tommy visiting favs (and lovett) in la please share!  **

i haven’t written ANYTHING in that verse for a lil bit but it’s still delicious and i’m so glad you enjoy it. imagine tommy comes down from san fran for a week to record a couple pods and he takes a cab to lovett’s house and lovett’s like sprawled on the couch playing zelda and is like “oh hey tommy, can you bring in my mail?” and tommy’s like ?? hello to you too, asshole. but he grabs the mail and throws his bags down and settles next to lovett on the sofa and lovett’s phone keeps buzzing until tommy’s like “who the fuck is texting you so much, mr. popular?” 

lovett rolls his eyes and grabs for it. it’s just favs, like five messages in a row. 

_Can we meet before tomorrow to brainstorm etc. haha_

_Asshole I know you’re home I can see your car_

_Does tommy get in tonight?? Do i need to pick him up?? Are you going?_

_Have you prepped the outline send it to me I have some ideas_

_LOVETT stop ignoring me. Send me the outline_

“needy,” lovett mutters, tapping out a response that tommy wants to see but can’t. “he’s, you know. that time of the month.”

“mm,” tommy says, ears going hot.   


lovett sighs and tosses his phone aside. “my dick fucking hurts. i can’t keep up.” 

tommy stares determinedly at the tv, hands on his thighs. he knew they were sometimes- but he didn’t- he didn’t really know, because he hasn’t been asking.   


(and eventually favs jogs over to lovett’s from his house and lovett’s in the shower so tommy answers the door and favs like GRINS and throws his arms around him. he’s in full fucking heat, tommy can like.. smell it, can feel his heart pounding and his blood running fast and hot, and he has to fight to pull away, to not bury his face in the sweaty crook of favs’ neck. favs looks happy and satisfied, loose and flushed high on his cheeks, and tommy thinks involuntarily of lovett saying  _i can’t keep up._  tommy could- tommy could keep up. he has to swallow hard, has to take a step back. that’s not what favs wants from him, it never has been.) 


End file.
